I Reincarnated as an Extra in a Reverse Harem World

They were training when it happened.

Each of them had been in their own space, submerged in their rhythm. Aurevia was in the frost chamber—barefoot upon the glazed floor, exhaling with precise breaths as thin veils of mist curled from her limbs. Her blade traced arcs of pure discipline.

Cellione danced with flame in her sealed training dome, her magic rising like molten silk, searing the air around her palms. Serineth, deep in her shadow chamber, stood in eerie stillness, eyes half-lidded, coaxing ripples of darkness into shape with only her breath.

And Virellen, knuckles bloodied with joy, was pounding earthbound targets in her own gauntlet-scarred space.

Then everything warped.

A moment of stillness, sudden and unnatural, tore the fabric of their connection to the Divine Castle. The divine ambient light flickered—and in the next breath, a white, silken ripple devoured their surroundings. Space folded with no warning.

With a disorienting twist, they were cast outward.

THUMP—THUMP—THUMP.

One by one, they landed in a heap of tangled limbs and silk training robes onto the polished floor of the mansion's living room. Not with grace. Not with preparation.

Just violently expelled, like pieces rejected by a divine entity. They looked around, eyes wide, the residual hum of divine essence still crackling faintly in their veins.

"What—"

Cellione sat up, breathless, eyes flashing with latent fire.

"Where is he?"

Serineth clutched her robe tighter, blinking as if she were still half in the shadows she'd been communing with.

"Master… did something happen to him?"

Aurevia was already upright, face pale, gaze sharpened in alarm.

"No… I don't sense danger. But… something changed."

Virellen stood up next, one hand resting on the frame of a nearby chair, her expression twitching between confusion and restrained panic. The same with other girls.

"This isn't normal. We were thrown out. That's never happened before. He's never—"

She stopped herself.

Before the questions could spiral further, the gate shimmered.

A low vibration tickled their ears—a sensation more felt than heard. The Divine Gate, which had vanished without so much as a whisper moments ago, now reappeared in the center of the living room with a faint hum and a slow unfurling of light.

And then—his voice.

"Everything is fine."

It cut through the storm in their chests like a thread of silver calm.

Alaric's form was visible for only a moment, draped in white light, his voice carrying with it an unseen weight, something deeper than sound. He said no more. Just those words. But they carried conviction.

The panic faded—somewhat. But questions were not so easily silenced.

They all exchanged glances. Something had shifted. Not just in space, not just in the flow of time, but within him. They could sense it. Even if he didn't speak of it.

But they also understood.

If he had chosen silence, it was because his path demanded it. And if not now, then later—he would tell them. As he always did.

So, with still-numb bodies and unsettled hearts, the four of them took to rest inside the Divine Castle again after the gate stabilized. Their training rooms were quiet now. Too quiet. But sleep called, and they needed it.

Even in the mansion, the divine hum of the castle's presence now lingered faintly in the walls. The gate pulsed softly in the center of the room, a silent reminder that their world had changed—but they had not been left behind.

Not by him.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

The next morning, in the vast, gold-trimmed dining hall, a rare gathering was underway. For once, all of them were present—Aurevia, Cellione, Serineth, Virellen, Auralyne, and the twenty-four new girls who had joined their lives under the veil of divine bonds.

The long banquet table, carved from ancient spiritwood and adorned with elegant cutlery, was filled end to end. Alaric's seat, the one at the head, remained empty.

They were waiting for him.

Soft voices filled the room in a gentle chorus. Conversations overlapped in a light hum, like birds greeting the morning sun. Laughter flitted across the space—low, warm, genuine. They spoke of their training, of progress made and goals yet to be reached. The cliques that had once naturally formed were dissolving into something broader, more cohesive.

Rivalries had given way to sisterhood. No longer merely a collection of individuals, they had become something else: a unified circle, bonded by cause, by fate, by the man they waited for.

The girls had begun calling themselves his court in jest. But in truth, it no longer felt like a jest at all.

Then, the double doors at the far end of the chamber creaked open.

Virellen didn't even glance up. Smirking, she lifted her cup.

"Finally decided to show your—"

Her words caught. Froze.

Her smirk faltered. Her hand trembled, just slightly. Her grey eyes widened as if reality had bent before her.

One by one, the rest turned, and silence fell like velvet.

It was him. And yet, it wasn't.

The figure who stepped inside bore Alaric's shape, his stature, his presence—but elevated, transformed. His once sunlit gold hair now shimmered like threads of consecrated light, each strand glowing faintly with an ethereal radiance that danced as he walked.

His eyes—once merely golden—now gleamed like liquid sunlight, deep and limitless, as if a divine flame lived behind them.

The lines of his face were unchanged and yet impossibly refined. Sharper, smoother, carved not by time or blood, but by purpose. It was not mortal beauty anymore.

It was something holier. Something sacred and distant. The type of beauty that demanded silence. Reverence. The kind that could destroy with a glance or heal with a smile.

His skin carried a subtle sheen, not of sweat or oil, but of power. Something ancient hummed beneath it. His aura pulsed outward in waves, silent and warm like the breath of dawn.

It wasn't violent or suffocating. It simply was—undeniable and encompassing. Divinity veiled in mortal frame.

He had become a vision—of a fallen angel or a deity who had forsaken the high thrones of heaven to walk among those far beneath him. A god among girls.

He approached without speaking. No words were needed.

Each footstep echoed softly, not because of sound, but because of impact. The air bent around him. The room seemed smaller now—humbled by his presence.

Aurevia, proud and composed, clenched her hand over her chest as a tremor fluttered through her.

Serineth's cheeks turned crimson, her eyes darting down, then back up, as if unable to look directly at him—yet unable to not.

Even Cellione, confident and bold, found herself breathless. A lock of hair fell over her eye, and she didn't bother fixing it. She was too stunned, too taken.

Auralyne, usually cold and analytical, narrowed her eyes in quiet awe. Her lips parted, but no words came.

The others—the twenty-four whose bonds were still fresh—felt their hearts stutter in unison. Some gasped softly. Others simply froze.

Every girl in that room, no matter how strong-willed or distant, found themselves changed in that moment.

They had already loved him in pieces—in loyalty, in devotion, in admiration, in longing.

But now…

Now, the pieces no longer mattered.

They were falling, all of them, like petals before a divine wind.

And Alaric… said nothing. He simply reached the head of the table, offered a calm nod, and sat. As if unaware of what he had become.

Or perhaps fully aware—and choosing not to speak of it.

The golden gaze swept across them.

And not a single one could meet it without feeling her soul stir.

They had been waiting for him.

But now… it was something else entirely.

They would follow him—not because he was beautiful, or divine, or powerful.

But because he was Alaric.

And that… that was now more than enough.

-To Be Continued